


worried

by TheReluctantShipper



Series: TRS' Destiel Ficlets [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper





	worried

Dean is worried about Blue Eyes.

For most of the time he’s lived here, Blue Eyes has been like any other ridiculously sexy neighbor Dean’s ever had. He goes to work at what appears to be a regular nine-to-five. Sometimes he’s wearing a sharp suit, sometimes he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a logo on it that Dean is always  _ just _ too far away to make out. He drives a hideous tan Continental that makes Dean want to weep, but he seems pretty upbeat despite his tragic vehicle ownership. For God’s sake, sometimes he  _ whistles. _

There are days, though, days which Dean assumes are harder than other days. Days when Blue Eyes gets home, changes into whatever seems comfortable at the time, and comes out to sit at the little patio set he has out front. There he sits and smokes cigarette after cigarette, either looking at his phone (on rough days) or staring off into nothing (on really, really bad days). Eventually, when dark has fallen, he goes inside. A few minutes after that, not long enough for Blue Eyes to eat anything or even properly shower, the lights in the house go dark.

It’s not that Dean doesn’t have bad days. Fuck knows he has days where he just comes home and flops face-down onto the couch and doesn’t move again until it’s time to go to bed. And sure, he knows it’s a little creepy how much time he’s spent watching his neighbor while the poor guy was just trying to live his damn life.

It’s just that when he’s sitting out there, staring at nothing and chain-smoking, he looks so  _ lost, _ so  _ alone. _ A person like Blue Eyes should never look like that. Sad, maybe, worn or beaten down by the world or just the day, sure, but never  _ lost. _ Never  _ alone. _

So Dean worries.

* * *

The bad days are getting more frequent. Three or four days a week, Blue Eyes is staring into nothing and trashing his lungs and not taking care of himself. Even from across the street, Dean can tell that the guy is losing weight, and his skin is paler than normal. He looks lost.

Dean thinks of a hundred ways to introduce himself.  _ Hey, man, I ordered way too much pizza. You hungry? _ or  _ I think some of our mail got mixed up, maybe? _ or  _ Don’t you wish Kathy would shut that fucking dog up? _ or  _ Those things’ll kill ya, y’know, heh heh, hey, why are you suddenly so depressed and please, for the love of God, please tell me how to help you. _

Yeah, they’re not all winners.

But Dean can’t just do  _ nothing. _

So on one of those nights (a really, really bad night), he walks over, hands in his pockets. Blue Eyes doesn’t realize he’s on his way until he’s almost at the guy’s driveway, but he doesn’t say anything until Dean points to the chair across from Blue Eyes, eyebrows raised.

“Mind if I sit?”

Blue Eyes shrugs, still watching him intently.

Dean sits, then offers a lazy smile that he hopes doesn’t betray how hard his heart is beating in his chest.

“Hi, I’m Dean.”

Blue Eyes nods, and in a voice that rumbles pleasantly across Dean’s senses, says, “I’m Cas.”

Dean lets the silence settle over them for a moment before hitting Cas with the same kind of intense eye contact Cas is laser beaming him with.

“So, Cas. You wanna talk about it?”

Slowly, so slowly, as slowly as seasons and lives change, Cas nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips.


End file.
